


Left Unsaid

by silver-kin (06seconds_left)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:51:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/06seconds_left/pseuds/silver-kin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your mind says you can't. Your heart (is that what it is?) says you can. At the end of the day, Xigbar realises, what really matters is what you choose to do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Unsaid

_The hallway is dimly lit, and the night sky doesn't help make things any better._

_Two people walk down the narrow path, both going in opposite directions. Their quiet footsteps bounce off the walls in echoes as they come closer and closer to each other. Both have different matters in mind, and neither acknowledges the other's presence with a greeting._

_When they reach each other, the material of their clothing whispering softly together, only one of them reacts to it._

_One keeps going, walking onwards to whatever destination it is he has in mind. He doesn't turn around to look back, doesn't see anything out of the ordinary in passing each other in the hallway. He sees it only as a normal occurrence, one that has no need for more than the briefest of attention._

_The other hesitates in his step, body tensing up automatically at the barest touch and his breath hitching in his throat._

_\---  
_

Xigbar comes down to breakfast one day and finds three other Organization members in deep discussion at the table. Or rather, Axel and Demyx verbally arguing a matter and Xaldin watching them with an amused expression on his face.

Curious, Xigbar settles himself in the empty seat next to the raven-haired lancer and askes, "What's up?"

Xaldin waves a hand towards the two neophytes. "Nothing much. Just a childish argument."

At that, Number VIII and IX seems to notice him and promptly turn their attention onto Xigbar. They both speak at the same time and when neither gives in, Axel takes charge; the redhead hooks his foot around one of Demyx's chair's leg and nonchalantly pulls, causing the sitarist's face to momentarily disappear from sight. Satisfied, Axel smirks over the table. "Can you please tell this dimwit how wrong he is?"

"I am _not_ a dimwit!" There is a scuffling of feet followed by a loud thud and the entire table shakes. Demyx groans in pain and says, "And I'm not wrong either."

"Then will you please explain why you're not?"

"Because it's true!" the blonde replies, pulling himself up from where he had landed under the table. "Don't you think so?"

Xaldin, who the question was intended for, merely shrugs his shoulders. "Since Xigbar's joined us, why don't you ask him and see what he says?"

"Okay." Demyx rubs his two palms together, determined to prove his point. "Xigbar."

"Yes?" he replies, beginning to understand why the lancer had decided to stick around for the argument rather than excuse him - obviously, the drama was far more entertaining than patrol duty.

"Do you think Nobodies can feel?"

At that, the sniper rolls his eyes in disappointment and barely suppresses a sigh. "That old question again? We've been through this before, Demyx. If you _still_ don't get it, let me drag Vexen over here from whatever it is he's doing in that lab of his so he can explain everything to you. Again."

"No!" comes the instant response. Then, Demyx laughs nervously, eyes darting from side to side as if the blonde concerned would suddenly appear from thin air. "I mean, there's no need to trouble him. He's probably, er, busy. With stuff."

"Then there's no point in you asking me that, now is there?" Xigbar asks, getting up to leave.

"Wait!" he said. "Wait. Just, hear me out, okay?" the sitarist pleads.

Xigbar glances at Xaldin - who offers no assistance - and sighs, dropping back into his seat.

"Okay," he begins. "Every creature goes through evolution, right? They adapt and change according to their environment in order to survive. Like fish, and monkeys, and humans. And how the darkness in people's hearts change and become Heartless. Right?"

Xigbar nods. Slowly.

"So, doesn't that mean that Nobodies can evolve too? I mean, when the body that gets left behind has enough willpower, it begins to move on its own. That's what we call a Nobody. So, if we look at it like that, doesn't it mean that Nobodies are capable of development?" he asks, checking to see if Xigbar was still with him. "First, from body to Nobody. Then from unfeeling to feeling! You get my meaning?"

At that point, Axel feels the need to comment. "I told you, Xaldin. He's a lost cause."

"Shut up, Axel," the lancer tells him.

For a while, Xigbar remains silent, trying to come up with an acceptable comeback. Finally, he leans back and props his legs on the table non-too politely, balancing the chair on one of its back legs. He looks Demyx straight in the eye, yellow meeting green. "Demyx, that is really a very interesting point of view."

The blonde blinks, seemingly in disbelief. "Really? So it works?"

He shakes his head. "'fraid not. You see, although everything you mentioned before is true, that's only _physical_ evolution. Feeling, on the other hand is emotional, a mental aspect, so it changes the situation. Since we're people who have lost their hearts, we're exempted from emotion, thus, the process of feeling entirely."

As Demyx digests the new information, his face seems to deflate, and Axel's smirk only grows wider as he watches the blonde. "Looks like I win," he says, and leaves the company. Sinking into his defeat, Demyx plays with his morning drink, twirling its contents around and around in circles with a blue spoon.

Soon after, the other Organization members arrive, appearing at different times. When Number VI and X join the table at almost the same time, Xigbar excuses himself and leaves.

\---

Upon entering Namine's room, he finds the table and sections of the floor near it to be almost completely covered with sketches, a selected few of them colored. It reaches the extent that Xigbar has to remove an entire stack of carelessly placed papers in order to sit down, an act he found troublesome - he knows Namine isn't exactly an organized person, but this is ridiculous.

Once he successfully relocates the drawings to a different section of the room, he sits down opposite of the blonde girl and says, "People would usually take good care of the things important to them, not leave them all over the floor."

Without so much as glancing up, she replies, "Those drawings are of no importance to me. They mean nothing."

Xigbar blinks, surprised at such a sombre, gloomy tone. "Oh? What's that supposed to mean?"

Namine only shakes her head and doesn't answer, eyes trained on the drawing in front of her as her hand moves with careful precision.

Sighing, he drops the subject. Then, he gets up and goes around the table, intrigued by such avid concentration. When he sees the picture she's so intently working on, he doesn't find much. What does catch his eye is the drawing under the drawing pad; it surprises him and his body unwillingly goes still.

Not bothering to ask first, he almost snatches the paper out from under the book, taking in what he is really seeing. It is a picture of two figures - two Organization members, he amends - looking at each other in a facedown, from opposite ends of the paper.

Adding the finishing touches to her drawing, Namine looks up at him, silent. Still, Xigbar can't think of anything to say; no words form themselves on his tongue, staying well out of his reach.

Finally, she speaks. "You should tell him."

The fact that those words, _those_ words, came out of Namine's mouth - Namine, who rarely ventures out of her room, much less leave her seat - is enough to snap him out of his reverie. "No."

"Why not?" she asks. "He won't know unless you tell him."

"It doesn't matter," he replies, making his way towards the door whilst grasping the paper in his hands so tightly it begins to crumple. "Nobodies don't have feelings, remember? They only _pretend._"

"But, still-" Namine hesitates.

"Besides," he says, scrunching up the drawing in his hands into a tight ball of rubbish with such vehemence, he half-expectes Namine to protest, "some things are better left unsaid."

\---

It's one of those days when the rain comes down in persistent long storms and biting gusts of wind. Not at all a suitable time for sparring, due to the slippery ground and the fondness the Heartless have recently developed for ambushes during heavy downpours.

This, among many other things, is what Xigbar thinks about as he watches the duel currently taking place. Number III and Number X; an unlikely pair, but Xaldin is the only member left in the entire Organization who is always ready for a battle or two. Most people go to him when they feel the sudden urge to practice.

He can't see the details of the match very clearly, not from where he's standing. The high balcony is, however, dry and provides a somewhat protection from the rain, which is an added bonus and basically the reasons why he chose to watch from here. Xaldin has the advantage, probably; the wind makes a fight harder for those who are not used to its nature, and the lancer has spent years perfecting his balance against its unpredictable currents.

Though Luxord isn't doing too bad himself, either. There is a lacking in outward attacks, but Number X more than makes up for the constant defending with the little tricks he scatters into the air as he moves back, willingly giving more and more ground. At one point, he had even managed to slip in a chain of combos before Xaldin recovered from the disorienting spell, returning with renewed strength.

Xigbar watches them fight, silently observing the two moving figures even as he ignores the chill that has made its way through his body.

The quiet doesn't last; footsteps from somewhere behind him announce the arrival of another Nobody and when he glances to his right, the grinning face of Axel is there to greet him. The redhead lifts a hand to his temple in a mock salute, smiling as he does it. "Yo."

In response, he grins back but does not return the gesture. "And what are you doing here?"

"Just walking. You know how some of the routes in the castle can lead to the strangest places," Axel replies, moving to stand next to him. He scans the area the balcony overlooks for a moment and makes a sound in his throat when he catches sight of the two Nobodies currently engaged in a heated battle in the rain.

His solitude having been confiscated, Xigbar turns back and resumes his position on the balcony wall: hands placed easily atop each other on top of the white solid structure and body leaning forward in the comfortable slouch he is accustomed too. Beside him, Axel follows suit, imitating the motion as readily as an eager child.

When Xigbar sends a questioning look his way, he shrugs and doesn't offer any other response.

The redhead's silence doesn't last very long - it never does. Much too soon, Xigbar finds his presence being questioned. "Do you do this often? Watching people fight from some distant spot far enough from the actual match itself that people never notice you, but close enough to still see what's going on?"

It's an inquiring question; something that Xigbar has learned to understand can have a thousand possible motives. He doesn't like those kinds of questions, more so when they come out of Axel's mouth. "What's it to you?" he asks roughly, not caring for the question or the person voicing it.

The ends of Axel's smirk widens even as his face takes on an innocent expression, shoulders shrugging casually in a faux guileless act. "I'm just asking." The redhead turns his gaze back onto the unaware two below them and Xigbar almost believes that their conversation ends there. It doesn't. "He's really strong, huh?"

He doesn't expect it, the nature of the question, and part of him wants blurt out a loud 'what?' in response. Instead, Xigbar turns a surprised look onto the man on his left and upon finding no telltale mocking signs - save for the few that have always tainted the face of Number VIII - he reluctantly answers. "I guess so."

"I mean, he's really good at what he does," Axel continues, stretching the conversation towards a point Xigbar can't quite see, yet. "He rarely makes any mistakes."

Puzzled by the subject of the uninvited talk but curious as to what, exactly, the redhead is getting at, Xigbar studies the figures below him. They must have stopped for a rest earlier because they are both standing unmoving, a safe distance away from each other. "Of course he's good. Someone in his profession has to be."

Next to him, Axel tilts his head slightly. "Really?" he asks, voice hinting at amusement.

"Mistakes are dangerous 'cause it shows how little control you actually have on what you're doing and just how much you're relying on hopes that it'll somehow work your way." The words come out in a steady flow, easy and light on his tongue. "If he makes mistakes, he'll be deemed incompetent, which will result in failure. Can't have that happening, now, can we? Besides," he adds, an afterthought, "thinking is important, you know."

Axel makes that sound in his throat again, the sound Xigbar has never been able to interpret, even after all the time the Organization has spent being more than just the six of them. "It's all about the brain, huh?"

This time it's him that shrugs, rolling his shoulders in a non committal gesture. "If you have a brain, why not use it?" he says, thoughts jumping around in blurred circles. "He's not someone I'd want to pick a fight with."

A rustling of cloth and Axel has shifted his position, leaning his weight against the wall now behind him. He doesn't return to watching the match, instead gazing off into the empty air in front of him. "Why not?"

"Because it'll be difficult to win," he answers, hints of irritation coloring his voice, a little annoyed at having to clarify his statement; he knows that Axel knows and thus sees no reason as to why the redhead had chosen to ask despite it. "Any idiot would know better than to pick a fight with someone he _knows_ he can't–"

"Who are you talking about?"

The question comes unbidden, unexpected and effectively cuts off any words he was about to say next. He turns his head around, choosing to stare at the redhead directly now instead of sneaking a glance from the corner of his eye. Xigbar isn't sure what he is expected to say next and as a result, his mouth hangs opens slightly in what could be considered a gape.

Axel turns to face him, mouth curved up in a wide smirk and a know-all glint in his green eyes, an expression far too similar to the one he wore the day he returned from Castle Oblivion, alone and dripping with stories and mock sorrow; being the object under that gaze makes him uncomfortable, and he has to squash the sudden urge to teleport away. "I was referring to Xaldin," he says, each word deliberate, each word drawing more length to the sneer on his face. "Who are _you_ talking about?"

It takes Xigbar perhaps a moment longer than it should to see the meaning of the question and he dismisses it - later, when he looks back and remembers the moment, he writes it off as the effects of being caught off guard. As of now, Xigbar notes the sly smile and the knowing tone of the redhead's voice and once the full implications of Axel's words have hit him, the Nobody is already gone, leaving only wispy smokes of darkness in his wake.

Xigbar turns back to the match down below, listening to the whispers of energy and spells being exchanged across the air. He returns to watching the two animated figures as they resume their battle, all too keenly aware of the painful throbbing in his chest, where his heart should be.

\---

Once, after number VIII revealed his true colors and murmurs of betrayal have long since begun to bounce off the castle walls in silent accusations, Xigbar opts to go for a stroll. He leaves the meeting room through a portal and arrives at a random stairwell somewhere inside the building, having given little thought to the starting point of his walk.

During his journey down the flights of stairs, he bumps into Xaldin. The lancer gives him a brief, curt nod as a greeting and Xigbar knows not to ask for anything more; he registers the way his companion's shoulders are tense, shaking faintly with the weight of all the energy being suppressed underneath it and the small frown Xaldin's eyebrows have arched into and he knows, he _knows_ not to ask.

Thinking vaguely of cheerful green eyes and the persistent plucking of strings and how now, all of it is gone forever with only _memories_ left to reinforce their existence, and even then it depends entirely on the person remembering - thinking silently about these things, he moves to walk past the wordless Nobody. When his feet have taken him all but three steps away from the lancer, Number III calls out to him, "Xigbar."

He automatically comes to a halt at the sound of his name, but turning around to face the brunette is his decision alone. "Yes?"

Even as Xigbar watches, blue eyes cloud over with a million things never said. Something close to despair tugs at the lancers face but the hint is gone as soon as it comes, disappearing so fast that he thinks he might have imagined it. Xaldin's mouth opens and closes several times, each time trying to form a word with his voice and each time the word falters. Like water, he thinks, like water that's lost its container, the one and only thing that gave something so shapeless its form.

At last, Xaldin's mouth closes for seconds longer than before, the worry in his brow leaves and clouded blue eyes turn clear once more, albeit dimmer than before, muted by something Xigbar isn't sure he wants to know about. Finally, the lancer speaks and the words pierce the air between them as sharp as an arrow. "Don't wait too long."

Later, as Xigbar stands rooted to the floor, as he watches the retreating figure of Number III ascend slowly up the staircase, the words are still ringing in his head, like warning bells to remind him that regardless of what is and what isn't, time waits for no man.

"_Don't wait too long to say it. It might be too late by then." _

_\---  
_

A few days later, the entire castle is filled with rigid energy. Despite the size of it and the amount of space in the building, everywhere he turns he can't help but see old memories flickering in and out of sight, like ghosts haunting a graveyard. Even the abandoned rooms seem to give off a vibrating aura, denying the truth of their actual emptiness. Everywhere there are signs of what used to be and death; the feelings hover in the air in clouds of invisible sepulchral, gloom tainting the white walls of the castle.

Xigbar spends more and more of his time outside, treading the many roads of the Dark City and shooting the Shadows that follow his trail. Sometimes he'd leave, visiting the other worlds out there through doors of darkness, but this doesn't happen often; with so few people remaining, all of them seemed to unconsciously stick close to The World That Never Was, reluctant to wander too far from the familiarity of the castle even as most of them try to avoid being near it.

Today, the restless feeling nags at him more than usual. Shooting sprees dont help much and every time just leaves him itching for more. The constant urge to move and the complete lack of anything to do - other than wait for orders, but who sat around and waited from something like that - eventually leads him to seek out some company.

When he drops down from his perch, from the cold metal pipes attached to the silent buildings, Xaldin graces him with an acknowledging look, no surprise filling his features. "What is it?" the lancer asks, returning his attention to his lances.

Standing precariously on another, thinner pipe, this time closer to the ground, he runs words over his tongue. What _had_ he come here for? There is more than one thing to be considered, but mulling it all over in silence isn't part of his nature. Besides, Xaldin is still waiting for an answer of sorts. Grinning, he falls into a crouching position, body leaning forward slightly to stabilize himself. "Want to spar?"

They fight without stop, moving around so much that both have a hard time getting their aim right. The match doesn't take long; since the aim of the battle is to use up as much energy as possible, the fight finishes relatively quickly. There is no strategy involved, only consecutive attacks being lashed out one after the other. As it is, even with the help of magic spells being thrown out throughout the entire fight, neither of them ends up wounded and by the time their energy is spent, all they have from the exercise are mild scratches.

At the end of it, Xaldin is grinning and Xigbar is sure the expression is mirrored on his own face. The lances in the brunette's hands leave with a soft rush of air and he relaxes his body, smoothing out strained muscles. Xigbar does the same, and he moves closer to join the lancer sitting on a nearby wall, resting next to the damaged part of it that was probably broken earlier by either one of them.

It's only once they have both regained a steady breathing that he notices the third Nobody. At the sight of him, Xigbar feels himself stilling and immediately forces himself to relax, watching rather warily as the figure approaches them.

Once he's standing in front of them, Luxord smiles a greeting. "Quite a fight back there."

"Just venting off excess energy," Xaldin says, answering for the both of them. "The Heartless aren't exactly much of a challenge anymore."

The blonde agrees to that, nodding to the offered fact. "With the Keyblade wielder out there doing his job so well, there isn't exactly much of a threat left from them."

"Even without that brat and his friends, we'll do just fine. It's only because the Organization needs him that he's still around." Xaldin's reply is indignant, and if possible, his face takes on an affronted expression.

Xigbar catches it and sees Luxord noting it too. The blonde says nothing about it, though, keeping whatever thoughts he has about it well to himself. "According to Xemnas, Kingdom Hearts is almost complete, so we won't be needing him for very much longer."

Number III stands up. "I'll be glad when that day comes," he says grimly, and with a short wave to the both of them, the lancer leaves through a portal, disappearing in tendrils of darkness.

Suddenly, Xigbar finds himself left alone with Number X and the cold realization does nothing to calm his nerves.

Luxord sighs softly, sitting down next to him and, after a while, begins to hum a soft tune to himself. The blonde's eyes are gazing ahead, lost in thought and maybe the act of remembering, and silence falls over them.

The quiet makes him uncomfortable. He thinks first of the few times he has ever been in the same room as the Nobody next to him - much less this close to him - and then of the rare moments they actually spoke to each other. The memories leave him feeling more at loss as to what to do next and he finds his thoughts turning around in slow but desperate circles, searching for a solution he _knows_ he won't find.

When Luxord speaks, it takes all of his willpower to not jump at the sound. "Xigbar."

Turning to face the blonde, Xigbar can feel traces of nervous he shouldn't have rise up his throat. The sound of his name on the other man's tongue makes his chest pull tighter and turns his insides around and around in painful, jerky lurches, so much so that he can't quite form any words with his own voice to reply.

Luxord doesn't seem bothered by the lack of an answer. He continues staring straight ahead of him as he speaks, a small smile gracing his lips. "Do you think we'll make it?"

He blinks twice, not quite managing to grasp the question. "What do you mean?"

In response, Luxord meets his gaze, calm blue eyes locking onto yellow. "Do you think we'll defeat the Keyblade master?"

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Xaldin's voice speaks to him. The lancer's words echo in his head and the warning bells sound again, reminding him of what Namine had asked him to do and what Number III had said that day they had bumped into each other on the stairs. The words ring loud and clear as he thinks of the times he has passed Luxord in the hallway and neither of them had said a word; he thinks of the thousands of things he has always meant to say but never did and of moments lost forever, like the piles of rubbles left in the rain that was all that remained of a city.

He opens his mouth with every intent of saying at the very least _one_ of those sentences dancing on his tongue; Xigbar opens his mouth and looks at Luxord, the Nobody whose presence he has been so acutely aware of since the day Number X was introduced into the Organization's forces.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, something reminds him that his thoughts are ridiculous; that he can't be thinking about such things in that manner, can't feel that way because he doesn't have a heart anymore. That alone trips his tongue and pushes the words back down his throat.

Xigbar blinks once and finds himself saying, "Of course we will." The words boasts of habitual self-assurance, of confidence mirrored in memory.

The response is accepted. Luxord gives a small nod to the words, turning away to stare at the city. "You certainly sound confident," he replies, pushing himself off the wall, moving away further away from it. After a few steps, he stops and looks back to face Xigbar. Still smiling, the blonde says, "Well, the best wishes to all of us, then."

He watches Luxord leave, watches until the last bit of darkness has faded away into the ground once more. Then, he looks up at the black sky above him. "Of course we will," he repeats to himself, a barely audible whisper, knowing full well that those are not the words he needs to say most.

\---

_Their shoulders almost brush as they walk by, only a breath's distance away and the almost touch is enough to halt him in his step. There is a pounding in his chest, loud and demanding to his ears. _

_A war is fighting itself somewhere inside him and words flood his mouth. He wants to say something, any of the million of things left unspoken, unsaid. The want fills his entire body, his mouth brimming with words he has held back for so long due to the scientific reasoning he has so stubbornly stuck by that the tightening in his chest **can't** happen because there's **nothing left there to hurt.**_

_Xigbar turns around, mouth open, his entire body shaking with the sheer need to **say** it and the other man's name balancing precariously on the tip of his tongue._

_Then he closes his mouth with a mute finality, swallowing everything he needs to say wholly and completely._

_Falling back into an unconscious routine, he turns around and walks in the opposite direction and the non-existing moment happens just like any other._


End file.
